


metanoia; thanatophobia

by kiramreid



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Holding Hands, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's 4:35 am please help, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, No Beta We Die Like Y/n, Not Beta Read, Other, Paranormal, Please Don't Hate Me, Plot Twists, Spirits, ghost - Freeform, i cried writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiramreid/pseuds/kiramreid
Summary: Spencer Reid has spent a long time alone. He hasn't loved anyone since Maeve.It's a shame that the first person he could see himself loving is already dead.(or are they?)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	metanoia; thanatophobia

**Author's Note:**

> aha,,,, dont hate me

Spencer has spent many restless nights and days debating with himself over the afterlife.

Most of the time he tries to not be cynical, his mom raised him to be kind to all beliefs. Or, she rather  _ told  _ him to be that way. Spencer practically raised himself half the time. Still, despite all the effort put in to understand almost every religion he could find, nothing would prepare him for the shadow that followed him in the months after his release from prison.

The first time he saw the fuzzy shape was when he was trying to calm himself after choking Cat. What looked like a hand reached out to rest on his arm, before disappearing as J.J. opened the door. The second, third, and fourth time were much the same, a blurry figure that disappeared when another person came by. Either Spencer was seeing things or he was developing signs of Schizophrenia. He hoped it was the first option; a trick of light, rather than the illness he had been avoiding for most of his life.

Dreams gave him the shape with clarity. Though the edges were fuzzy and things changed. He could never focus too hard on the figure before he awoke in a sweat. Quick observations gave him a person, one he had never seen before. Odd considering all faces are reused for dreams. They were peaceful, and Spencer felt a comfort from them that he had never felt anywhere else. He soon started looking forward to sleeping, when the person would rest within his arms. They made him feel like he could really breathe.

Then, it stopped. His dreams became garbled and incomplete like they were before. He’d hope his person would come back, but they didn’t. Sleep started to be less fun.

It was a normal day, Spencer had finished with paperwork and was heading home. While in the metro he tried to push himself to see the shadow again. Like all the day before, he failed. When entering his apartment he found nothing aloft or different. The only thing wrong was the atmosphere. His apartment felt too  _ full  _ like there was something in the air that made oxygen thick like sludge. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto his couch, his tie followed soon after. 

Spencer walked into his bedroom while unbuttoning his shirt. He grabbed an old graphic tee and sweatpants, deciding to take a shower before ordering food. Spencer wasn’t in the mood to burn food and then have to suffer through eating it. 

The warm water rinsed away his worries of the day. Though the air was more humid, it felt thinner than before. He was much more relaxed. Suds rinsed from his hair and down the drain. He hurried through washing himself in order to be able to eat faster. 

Once he had toweled, dressed, and ordered his chicken lo mein did he realize why his house felt off. His entire apartment was not organized the way he preferred it. Books from his shelves were in the wrong place, some even faced the wrong way with their pages facing outwards. He rushed to grab his gun from where he placed it in his bedside drawer. 

“Jeez, man put that thing away,” an unknown voice called out to him. Immediately Spencer turned to face them. “Woah, woah. That’s not gonna do much but ruin your walls.”

“Who are you, why are you in my house?” Spencer asked, his grip on his gun tightening.

The person in front of him pouted, if Spencer was anyone else he’d have said they look like they flickered in and out of existence.

“Did the dreams not work, then?” That’s when Spencer realized who it was. His gun clattered to the floor and his arms dropped to his side.

“No,” he breathed. “You’re just a dream, a shadow, you’re not a real person.”

Anxiety crept into him. Was he finally going insane enough to create full bodied hallucinations and a voice?

“Yes I am!” They said, defensively. They looked away. “Or at least, I was.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The person faded away with a huff. Spencer felt them reappear behind him. He turned around, trying to comprehend what was happening. 

“I’m about ninety-five percent sure I’m dead. Which means I’m a ghost. I think…”

Spencer scoffed. Picking up his gun and setting it on his kitchen table. “There’s no scientific evidence for ghosts.” He turned around the room twice, “Whoever is there and set up a hologram, good job. Please turn it off now, I’m not an idiot.”

The hologram sank to the floor, sprawling out sadly before floating up and over to Spencer. “I’m not a hologram.” They righted themself, Spencer noticed that their feet didn’t touch the floor and rather hovered an inch above. The hologram’s hand moved to hover by a cup sitting on Spencer’s table. Concentration and frustration framed their face, “Could a hologram do this?”

The cup flew across the room and hit the wall, smashing into beige colored glass.

“Oops… ‘M still not used to interacting with objects.”

Spencer groaned, grabbing a dustpan and brush to scrape up the glass. So they were a real ghost… Fuck. What did this mean? Did Spencer have an obligation to tell the government that ghosts were real? How did they die? What’s their name? Were they that pretty in life, too?

They laughed, “You most definitely didn’t mean to ask those out loud, huh? Well, I’ll answer anyway. This means the undead is real and that I’m a spirit. No, I don’t think so. I have no clue, though I have an aversion to cars so maybe a crash? I think my name is Y/n. I don’t remember my life, at all.” they smiled sadly before replacing it with an excited expression. “You’re the first person to actually see me, you don’t understand how lonely I’ve been. I want to know all about you. If you’d be kind enough to oblige me, of course.”

Spencer dumped the glass into his trash can, happy that he’s had enough practice shoving down his emotions. Otherwise, he’d be having a full blown breakdown in some capacity. Though whether it’d be a ‘happy’ or sad one was up to debate. He ignored their question.

A knock at his door signaled that his food was here. He quickly pushed the right amount of money plus a twenty dollar tip into the delivery man's hands. Y/n did a cartwheel, almost falling into Spencer’s table had they not phased through it.

“Ooh, whatcha got?” They said, peaking into the bag as Spencer opened it.

“I thought ghosts didn’t need to eat,” he said, pulling out the black styrofoam box. The complementary pair of chopsticks were thrown in the trash as he opted for a fork.

“Nope, but I can still smell! And taste.” Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Don’t ask.. Let’s just say the stuff used to stick bricks together is  _ not  _ Wendy’s frosty.”

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh before digging into his food. Y/n just stares at him, which is a little weird but they both aren’t exactly normal. After all, Spencer feels more at peace with a ghost than he has with any other living person. He oddly feels the calmest he’s felt since Scratch died.

Maybe seeing a ghost wasn’t all bad.

* * *

Y/n didn’t cease to surprise him. For one, there were many things ghosts could do, and two, they were really fun to be around. 

Spencer found himself often missing their presence when at work. Till one day he saw Y/n walking around the bullpen. Well, mostly just floating and letting their mind guide them through the air.

He had asked them briefly about that and learned that the Physics of Ghost’s made no sense. For example, he could completely walk through Y/n and only feel ‘heavy’ like there’s too much air humidity, but obviously they can manipulate energy to touch things. In fact, Y/n could tell temperature and texture with their eyes closed. Obviously Spencer would never be able to test out any hypotheses, so he didn't bother making any.

After the first day he saw Y/n at his work-place they became more frequent, often being a trickster and stealing pens and papers from anyone that seemed to vex them. For the oddest reason, Y/n seemed to favor Penelope while tormenting J.J. the most. 

Had Spencer known if his profiling skills worked on a ghost he would put them to use to find out what that was all about. Instead he mostly just tried not to laugh when J.J. couldn't find something she needed; it wasn’t out of enjoying her displeasure, it was more so enjoying how Y/n looked like the cat who got the cream every time, without fail. 

“I’m bored!” Y/n said one day, floating above Spencer’s head as he scribbled on his paperwork.

“How about you go chat with Penelope? I’m pretty sure she still has her Ouija Board in her cave,” Spencer whispered, only loud enough for Y/n to hear. They peak up at that and zoom away towards Penelope’s room. Spencer, who had to talk to Penelope anyway, slowly followed after.

The door was open and he saw Garcia staring in horror at her board as the planchette moved around lazily from  _ ‘Hello’ _ to spell out ‘ _ IM BORED _ ’. Spencer was the only person to see how Y/n’s hand dragged the small piece of wood. 

“Spencer!” Penelope cried out! “Get in here! I see you standing there.” 

With a sigh he complied. Praying that she wouldn’t try to go insane, though it would be a normal response to being communicated with by the dead. 

“Call me crazy but did this Ghost just spell out  _ ‘Hurry up, Spencer’ _ ?”

Spencer rolled his eyes at Y/n and worked on fooling Garcia with ‘Why are you trying to scare me’s and etc. Luckily he isn't too suspicious and his little ghost friend (who pouts like a baby in the corner) does not expose him as a weirdo who sees an even bigger weirdo.

The worst part of seeing a ghost is the lack of privacy. Spencer has to constantly remind Y/n that his bathroom is not to be looked in, especially when he’s using it. Y/n just laughs, because they seem to have the oddest sense of humor. 

Today Spencer was on the jet, his team had a case and they were on their way to the state in order to catch yet another serial killer going after blonds. To make matters worse, the women had been getting taken within days of each other, meaning that they only had a day or two to find the killer before another body resurfaced. 

Spencer believed that his only saving grace was coffee. Oh, and the realization that if Y/n focused hard enough, they could stay in moving vehicles. That meant that right now they were sitting next to each other, err, sitting/floating in proximity to each other. Seeing as Y/n really couldn’t touch anything and in turn couldn’t sit, only hover. Maybe if Spencer was a bit more open minded he’d have realized there was a specific reason he only saw Y/n, and not every ghost. He was just a bit too agnostic for that, though. 

The annoyance Spencer used to feel at Y/n all but disappeared as he learned more and told more. Spencer regaled his concerns for his mothers degenerating memory and worsening schizophrenia, while Y/n told him the vague guesses they had about their life.

For starters, they were a cat person. Y/n kept saying if they closed their eyes tight enough they saw a chocolate brown kitten named pudding in their memories. Also, they were partial to purple and cyan. 

The saddest thing that they told Spencer was what they were slowly remembering about their death. Driving in a car, yelling, screaming, then a metallic crash and shriek that faded away. Y/n briefly mentioned the bright light of a hospital and hearing themselves flat-line.

Then they were alone, and far away from anything that seemed normal or natural. 

Spencer asked Penelope to search up car crashes where three cars collided and a silver one was broken in half, resulting in at least one death that took place in a hospital. She found one that matched, but the four out of five dead passengers and drivers did not match Y/n. Spencer gave up trying to search after that.

There was something else that Spencer found himself feeling, but he repressed it. It was a tickling feeling akin to the beginnings of love. He thought it both too early and too late for that to happen. Spencer and Y/n had only met face to face for a short of a month, and Y/n was dead. He wouldn’t deny that they were attractive (did that make him a necrophile by default?) but they were  _ dead  _ and Spencer already loved someone who’s dead.

It would hurt too much to love another.

Shame that his heart didn't get the memo and fluttered every time he woke up to find Y/n flipping through his books or something to pass the time. 

“Time,” Y/n mentioned one afternoon, “passes very oddly when you are dead.”

Confused, Spencer asked for them to explain. See, Spencer was  _ not  _ dead and therefore had no idea about what they were mentioning. 

With a heavy sigh Y/n continued, “A minute passes like molasses through an ant hole, but an hour like wind through a sail.”

Spencer was still confused and slightly enamored with the weird way of talking that Y/n had acquired. When prompted about  _ that  _ they said  _ ‘a ghost ought to talk like a ghost is expected, no?’.  _

Still, Y/n was nothing like expected. They were extraordinary and changed Spencer with every minute they spent together.

In a way they made him feel less dark. The evil that he felt he held after prison didn’t seem so opaque with Y/n there, fading in and out like a light and guiding him to a place that held a semblance of home.

Y/n felt like weirdly like home.

* * *

Fighting was not fun. Not when someone was practically incapable of being bothered.

Y/n had really messed up, they’d decided to continue haunting Penelope despite him telling them not to. Penelope was gentle and didn’t deserve to be scared like that. Spencer told that to Y/n and was met with a long and drawn out groan. Y/n told him to  _ ‘lighten up’  _ and then floated to the top of the room, as if to make a joke. 

Spencer did not find it funny, “You need to stop! You may be dead but that isn’t her fault and it isn’t mine! I never asked you to bother me.”

He took in an angry breath, “I never asked you to come here, you could’ve gone anywhere. I  _ wish _ you had gone somewhere else!”

The anger he felt dissipated as Y/n did. He wasn’t even angry about it, sure it was frustrating, but he was more angry at the case. It hadn’t ended well and it was all his fault. Learning that Penelope had had mischievous pranks pulled on her only made him find an outlet. He dropped his head into his hands with a groan. 

He pulled out his guns from their holsters and moved towards his safe. Then he changed clothes and slunk onto his couch. 

“I’m sorry,” he weakly called out. He  _ was  _ sorry. It was never his intention to Y/n. He was just  _ angry  _ and couldn’t control himself. It was a part of his autism. He’d been diagnosed a few years ago. ASD meant that there were chances for him to have feelings that he couldn’t control. 

That didn’t mean he was dumping the blame on his autism, he was just providing to himself an answer.

“You did ask,” Y/n’s voice called out from everywhere and nowhere. Their voice is both angry and calm, sad and happy. The profoundness in their voice makes him realize something: is Y/n  _ really  _ a ghost? Or are they something much more.

Fear is instilled in him despite him not being scared. 

“You prayed, whether you realized it or not. I was a result of that.” Y/n appeared but they were different. Spencer felt that they would burn his eyes with the glow that shone down on him. Then they were who they had been before. 

Y/n gasped and shook their head, “That was… weird.”

Spencer looked to them with awe. “Yeah. That was.”

After that he noticed more things that were odd. Y/n summoning things that wouldn’t be there otherwise. 

Spencer slowly gained a belief. He thought, without a doubt, that Y/n was a  _ God. _

* * *

In any way, shape or form, Spencer should've expected it. Y/n’s voice fading in and out, the times where they disappeared entirely, it should’ve been easy to guess. It’s what happened at the end of every bittersweet ghost story, after all

Y/n was leaving for the afterlife (or wherever a God went) and the thought scared Spencer more than it did Y/n. Spencer was, in simple terms, terrified of death. The thought of them being gone forever killed him internally. First Maeve, and then Gideon. He doesn’t think he might be able to bear it if Y/n leaves. So he prayed.

Spencer prayed more than once a night, to every god who might help. He left offerings and prayed to Hades, Anubis, Hecate, Freyja, Meng Po, anyone who might listen, because it was stupid, but he was in love. He even prayed to Aphrodite, hoping that might work. He didn’t believe it, though, so nothing happened.

So when one night Spencer was awoken by his alarm clock at 3:33 am, he knew what was happening. Y/n would often set the alarm to wake Spencer up when needed.

“Y/n,” he said, knowing how the fear in his voice was already racking into his soul. Emotions he couldn’t depict were rampaging in him. Anger and grief were the most prominent.

“Spencer,” Y/n said with a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I guess I should talk about something before I’m gone. Like a will.” they laughed softly, not meeting Spencer’s eyes.

“Don’t act like that!” He shouted, sitting up on bed.

“I have to. There's things I might not get to tell you, let me say them now.” Spencer was quiet. “First, don’t remember the fight, remember the good. Remember how happy we were, and smile for me. Second, when I’m gone read the letter in my book; you’ll know it when you see it. Third, I love you.”

The tears which were already trailing down his face where nothing compared to the sob that racked his body. God… Why couldn’t he just be happy? What about him made everything have to be so bad. Y/n flickered and Spencer saw pain ripple across their face.

“Please, don’t leave me. It’s selfish but I want to be selfish.” Spencer said, trying to reach out to cup Y/n’s face but slipping through. “God, please don’t take them, I’ll do anything.”

“Spencer,” Y/n called out while passing through Spencer’s hair as a way to try and calm him, though the being made of air made it hard. “You don’t believe in God, don’t pray for me.”

He looked up and didn’t know what to do. The first person he let himself love in a long time was practically  _ dying  _ and he couldn’t save them. Spencer felt like a failure. He needed to exercise his last resort.

“Then I pray to  _ you _ !” he slammed his hands down, not caring at the pain that ripped through his legs, tears that he couldn’t stop sprouted in his eyes. Y/n’s eyes were pained. “I believe in  _ you _ , that has to count for something.”

“I hope so…” Y/n’s voice became crackly at the end and they were rapidly becoming more transparent. “Love someone again, for me—”

Then they were gone. Spencer was alone.

He crumpled under the weight of it, and was barely able to make it into work the next day.

“Woah.” Luke said, “You look like somebody died.”

Spencer felt the familiar burn behind his eyes and knew should've been crying, but his body had gotten so used to it that it didn't produce any tears. “Oh shit, man, I’m sorry. You wanna talk about it?”

Spencer shook his head ( _ why did he lie?)  _ and took a deep breath, walking away with a quick “I have to run some case files to J.J.”

In reality he just needed someone to talk to, someone who wouldn’t judge. He grabbed Jennifer by the arm and pulled her into a supply closet. 

“Hey, Spence,” she said, the worry that he had been using evident in the tone of her voice. Spencer  _ hadn’t,  _ Y/n’s death hurt but he knew that Y/n wouldn't want him too. “You okay?”

“No.” Spencer said truthfully. “Someone that I had a connection to, they died last night.” The empathy that formed on her face hurt him, but he needed to let out this all in a safer and healthier way than the bottle he had tucked far away in his closet. He pulled from his pocket a crumpled piece of notebook paper. “They left me this.”

He gave the paper to J.J. and watched her read it. He knew what it said, even without his eidetic memory, it burned into his retina’s and wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he pushed and rubbed. 

“ _ Dear Spencer, (jeez that’s so formal) _

_ If you’re seeing this I’m dead-dead. Like, I’ll never see you again type deal. _

_ So here's some other things I forgot to tell you (you already know the first three) _

  1. _You are worth every second I spent with you._
  2. _The way you talked about your team made me wish I could meet them, I’m sad I'll never truly be able to. They love you. So don’t shut them out anymore._
  3. _When I heard you talk about wanting kids I realized how good of a Dad you’d be. Have an extra large family to love, including your team, you deserve it. (This may be selfish but I deep down wished that there was a chance your kids could be my kids and that it could be you and me one day getting married.)_
  4. _Don’t be afraid of death. For the past who knows how long, I’ve experienced it firsthand, it’s not as bad as it seems._
  5. _I love you, I know this was number three as well, but I wanted to say it again. I love you, I love you, I love you._
  6. _Don’t try to find where I’m buried, I’d rather you just think of me as I was when I met you._
  7. _Make me wait long on the other side. If I see your eyes in something other than my memories before four decades pass, I will kick you._



_ So that’s it. There’s more, but we’ll have forever in the stars for the rest.  _

_ Yours truly, _

_ Y/n L/n _

_ [“You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.” _

_ ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice]” _

“Spencer…” JJ. pulled him into her arms where the dam broke and he let out a long, hard sob. 

Y/n was gone and he would have to live. Y/n wasn’t a god. That didn’t mean that they weren't still powerful over him, but a god wouldn’t have left. Hopefully time does heal wounds. 

Spencer smiled at the sky and saw months of memories flash before him. He’d be okay for now.

* * *

_ ROUGHLY ONE YEAR LATER… _

It was a normal day for the B.A.U, paperwork and coffee. Of course it was only a mere moment till they knew a case would come. And one did. Spencer and his team gathered in the conference room. 

Emily was standing by the other door, the one only really used when there was a new recruit. 

“In this case, we will be joined by someone new, who will work with us from now on. We’ve desperately needed someone who specializes in teen and child psychology, so we were lucky enough to get an amazing transfer.”

“Welcome aboard, Doctor Y/n L/n.” lightning struck through Spencer and in that moment he knew he was either dreaming or dead. Then out walked the person who had literally and figuratively haunted him. Except they were walking, and they were so much prettier as a solid. Their eyes met and Y/n paused. 

He saw the moment recognition flooded J.J’s face as well as Y/n’s. Y/n grinned. “I thought you were a coma-induced dream.”

“A coma?” Spencer questioned, noticing the way his teammates glanced oddly at each other.

“The car crash didn’t kill me. My physical body lived but my ‘spiritual one’ was dislodged, and as I remembered more I must've connected more, which ended with me waking up in a hospital. Crying over the fact that I was dead.”

“Okay, wait,” Jennifer said. “This is the person from the letter, who apparently didn’t die, and is now talking about some spiritual things? What’s going on?” 

Spencer didn’t know  _ how  _ to explain it but he knew that Y/n was lying. Luckily Y/n seemed to be a good liar.

They looked over to Penelope, “You remember the ‘I’m bored’ ouija ghost right?” Penelope nodded skeptically. Then they continued, “That was me.”

Y/n looked to J.J. “All those times a year ago when your pens, papers, files, phone and stuff went missing and then replaced where you left them? Also me.”

J.J.’s mouth hung open but Spencer didn’t care about how crazy they both seemed. There was something he’d waited for two years to do. He walked over to Y/n and cupped their face in his hands and pressed a bruising kiss to their lips. 

Spencer knew there was more to talk about and more to explain. But he was a changed man and had too much on his mind to focus on more than the feel of something tangible and solid in his hands. 

Death wouldn’t be scary anymore. Not when he had the living proof of that praying to Gods worked. Only if you prayed to the right one of course; the one you believed in.

**Author's Note:**

> (concept I made that blossomed into this story)
> 
> sr x 'ghost' reader
> 
> except the reader is a god + they fall in love


End file.
